


The Waiting Season

by drivingsideways



Series: A Pair of Swallows [2]
Category: Serenade of Peaceful Joy (TV), 孤城闭 | Held in the Lonely Castle (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, More pining!, author displays her complete ignorance of sericulture!, but before Qiuhe is officially assigned by the Emperor to Kunning Hall, let's say this takes place after Maoze starts doing the investigating thing, softness!, this is meant to be an episode coda but i can't quite pinpoint which episode, vague episode spoilers until episode 42
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24078766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drivingsideways/pseuds/drivingsideways
Summary: When the moonlight, reaching a tree by the gate,Shows her a quiet bird on its nest,She removes her jade hairpins and sits in the shadowAnd puts out a flame where a moth was flying.- Zhang Hu/ "Of One in the Forbidden City"
Relationships: Cao Danshu/ Zhang Maoze
Series: A Pair of Swallows [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726612
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	The Waiting Season

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy. So fair warning, I'm not sure I will finish watching the entire drama because of Reasons; but I am still very invested in these characters and this pairing, so I do want to finish this series properly. My initial plan was to write as close to the canon events as possible so that this series would mostly fit into "missing scenes". But that plan looks like it's going to be thrown out of the window, given where canon is headed. Instead, here on out, we're straight up going to pettily and deliberately grind the canon to dust beneath our six inch heels.

He tries not to run.

To run would be to draw attention, and he's already done that more than is wise.

Of course, it was too late to hide as far as Huaiji was concerned- he’d been half out the door even before Huaiji had finished his sentence. As he dashed away, out of the corner of his eye, he’d registered Huaiji’s open-mouthed surprise at his behaviour, but he would care about that later.

Right now, all that mattered was getting to Kunning Hall as fast as possible.

It’s Qiuhe who greets him, with a graceful courtesy and a shy smile.

He had heard already from Liaozi and Huaiji that these days, Qiuhe accompanies the Empress more often than not, though she is not yet officially assigned to Kunning Hall. But all the ladies had seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement between themselves that they would not trespass on Qiuhe’s time- she belonged to the Empress, and by extension to Yifeng Pavilion. Huaiji didn’t talk much- he was careful like that- but it was also common knowledge that Lady Miao and Princess Fukang were both very fond of Qiuhe as well.

As for Qiuhe herself- Maoze had been made aware of Master Cui’s interest in her, and surmised that the Empress would, when the time was right, let her leave the Palace so that she could have a better life. Maoze is selfish- he had chosen wisely, he knew, when he’d sent her to the Empress, and _his_ concern is for the Empress’ comfort, so he hopes that the time for Qiuhe’s departure will be as far in the future as possible.

The Empress is working in her mulberry garden, Qiuhe informs him. It’s some distance from Kunning Hall to the orchard, and Maoze is not a fool, so he tamps down on his impatience, and walks even more sedately than before. Not slow enough to be called a slacker, but not so fast that conversation is impossible.

“Dong guniang” he says, “I hope you are not finding your duties too hard. I hear your praises often sung by your seniors at the Imperial Robe Bureau, but it occurred to me that perhaps you are being overburdened in your responsibilities. After all, to attend to the Empress _and_ Yifeng Pavilion….”

She gives him a look under her lashes.

“Maoze shifu is always kind” she replies, “I consider it my good fortune that you considered me worthy of serving Her Highness. How could I repay my debt except by giving my best?”

So.

He glances at her, but she’s looking straight ahead.

“Has Her Highness been in good health?” he asks. “I heard the Imperial Doctor prescribed some medicines for her recently”.

Her mouth turns downward slightly.

“Her Highness has a cough that keeps her awake at night, and I dared to advise her that perhaps she should not spend as much time in the garden as she does. But Her Highness insists that the fresh air does her good….and that her worms miss her loving care”.

The last bit is tacked on with a flash of a smile.

The last time he’d seen her, it had been the night _guanjia_ had taken the princess out to watch the street festival. Watching her from afar, he’d smiled to himself at how delighted she’d seemed by everything. The flush of excitement made her pale face livelier than he’d seen in recent memory; the simple civilian outfit making her look even more youthful.

It had been hard to keep his eyes off her; he had to admit that he had not succeeded as well as he should have, all things considered. It was pure luck that the distractions of the evening had let him get away with it.

“Her Highness has a strong will” he says now, to Qiuhe, “But I think you already know how she dislikes being the cause of another’s discomfort or pain. She would not want you to be admonished for not serving her well, if she’s not taking recovering as fast as she should”.

Quihe darts a glance at him, and then quickly away, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“It is as the Empress often says” she replies, and this time, there’s something mischievous in her voice. “Maoze shifu’s thoughtfulness is beyond compare”.

Maoze feels the unwanted heat on his cheeks, and gives her a sharp glance, but she’s keeping her head demurely bowed.

 _The fox,_ he thinks, half-annoyed, half-pleased.

Yes, he’d chosen well.

They find the Empress deep among the mulberry trees, examining the leaves of one, her brow creased in concern.

It clears on seeing them.

“Pingfu!” she says, and the pleasure in her voice, and the smile on her face falls on him like summer rain. “I was afraid you would be too busy to come”.

Her smile falters a little.

“I hope I have not kept you from an urgent task”.

“Her Highness’ tasks for me could never be less than urgent” he replies, and he doesn’t care that Dong Qiuhe hears it, even though the Empress’ eyes dart to her and then back to him.

His- _bias-_ isn’t a secret, not even to His Majesty, as Liaozi had related.

That had been a warning to _him_ , as much as to Liaozi, a warning and an olive branch together, because that was how guanjia's mind worked. 

And he has borne his punishment without complaint all these months- but he will not deny himself _this_ pleasure, of the quiet happiness in her eyes at his words.

“Then perhaps you can help me with this problem” she says, turning back to the tree.

He steps closer, close enough that he can breathe her scent today- the faintest of rose, but also something earthier, like sweat.

It is barely the ninth hour, but the sun is already high and bright.

“Look” she’s saying, and he draws his gaze forcibly back. “There’s some kind of disease eating the leaves”, she mourns. “And it’s spreading fast. I’m afraid it will ruin the entire orchard before long.”

He examines it: a trail of white- not eggs, something else, something that’s eating away at the leaves, leaving holes in them, large enough for his little finger to pass through.

It doesn’t look familiar.

“What did Sheng Li say?” he queries, turning a leaf over.

Sheng Li is the head of the imperial gardeners.

She sighs. “He says it happens sometimes, and nothing can be done about it.”

He looks at her.

She shrugs slightly, and picks at a leaf, her eyes shadowed. “He doesn’t think this little experiment of mine is worth saving, I think. I believe his exact words were that I should _leave the gardening to the experts_ ”.

He will have that man and his entire family thrown out of the city by noon, and that’s because he’s _merciful_.

She looks up at him, and her expression changes.

“Pingfu” she says, slowly, “I forbid you from firing him or anyone in his family”.

He lowers his gaze.

“Pingfu” she says, again, and now there’s a small laugh in her voice. “I _will_ hear of it if he’s suddenly called away to his hometown or some such—”

He meets her eyes again, and there’s a fondness in them that melts the ice of his rage instantly.

He bows his head, conceding, and looks up to see her smile widen.

“There are some new scrolls in the Imperial Library” he says, “I heard Minister Su speak of them the other day. He’s an avid gardener himself, and he was quite excited about this new treatise written by a scholar in Yunnan. It came through the Ministry of Agriculture, and as I understood, it dealt with the improvement in techniques of dealing with pests. Perhaps there’ll be something useful there”.

Her eyes gleam. “Oh! That’s excellent” she says, “Will you…”

“Of course” he says, “The Empress’ labour will not go in vain”.

She turns away.

“Will it not?” she says, soft, “In the end, I may have to accept whatever destiny has in mind for them”.

Maoze is not powerful.

Maoze is so weak that all he can do is fire an eighty-year old man who’s already going blind in one eye, while the one who breaks her heart every single day receives obeisance as though he were a deity.

Destiny, he thinks, bitterly, _destiny._

“Pingfu” she says, softly.

He startles- he’d let his thoughts distract him.

“Your Highness” he says softly, “It’s not yet time to give up. I will get the scrolls as soon as I can”.

Her smile makes him want to fall to his knees and kiss the hem of her robe.

“I have another project I want you to see!” she exclaims suddenly. “Come with me!”

Caught by surprise, he hurries after her, as she almost runs down the path.

Qiuhe follows a step behind.

She leads them to a small gazebo that’s been constructed at the far end of the orchard.

The earth around it- alongside the wooden railing has been freshly turned.

There’s a cluster of young plants, in small pots kept to one side.

The Empress places her hands on her hips and grins at them. Her sleeves flutter in the sudden breeze that’s rustling through the garden.

“I’m going to plant those around the gazebo” she announces.

“Wintersweet” he says, surprised.

“Yes” she nods. “They’re my favourite. Our garden at home had several, and in winter they’d turn the air so sweet, and so _bright._ It almost made me wish that spring would never come. But here….”

She sighs.

“Is Your Highness going to plant them herself?” Qiuhe murmurs.

Danshu gives her a dazzling smile.

“Pingfu” she says, “This child you’ve sent me loves to scold!”

“I do not dare!” exclaims Qiuhe, “Her Highness…”

She stops, flushing.

Danshu’s eyes twinkle.

Maoze cannot help the chuckle that escapes him and Qiuhe throws him a _betrayed_ look.

“Of course, she does it so sweetly that I cannot even be angry with her” Danshu teases, “She is certainly a great talent!”

“I’m only lucky to have the opportunity to learn from the best” says Danshu with a small bow in her direction.

Danshu’s laughter rings out like bells in a temple, and Qiuhe’s expression turns worshipful, though she tries to hide it behind her quiet smile.

 _Ah_ , thinks Maoze, _so it’s_ _like that_.

He cannot even blame her, he’s not a hypocrite.

“Your Highness has been working hard all morning” Qiuhe says, “I’ll fetch some tea”.

Danshu turns to Maoze.

“Does Pingfu have some time to spare for tea?” she queries. “I fear I have already kept you too long”.

“I dare not accept a reward unless I share in Your Highness’ work” he says, and when she looks surprised, he nods at the plants waiting to be transferred.

Delighted, she says, “Well, then, let’s begin at once!”

Qiuhe bows, giving him a speaking look as he inclines his head in acknowledgement, as she walks swiftly back up the path.

By the time he turns back, Danshu is already upto her wrists in dirt.

“Let me…!” he says, darting forward to kneel by her.

She looks up from where she’s digging a hole with a small pick.

“Oh, Sheng Li already did the hard work of loosening the earth” she says, grinning at him, “muttering all the time about how wintersweet can be overpowering.

She sets the pick aside and begins to dig with her hands instead.

“Besides…I like the feel of the earth in my hands. It feels….”

She trails off, her smile turning rueful.

He smiles at her and digs his hands in as well.

“Real” he finishes for her.

She nods.

They work in silence for a while.

Maoze can feel beads of sweat roll down his back.

Danshu lifts her hand to swipe at a wayward strand of hair falling over her cheek and leaves a streak of dirt across it.

He pauses.

“Qiuhe will scold you some more” he says softly, and when she looks at him in surprise, he reaches out to wipe it away with the edge of his sleeve.

“Thank you”

It’s so soft, like the softest breath of a breeze.

He turns away before he can forget himself, rising to fetch one of the plants.

Carefully, he lowers it into the hole, and together they start shoving the dirt back in.

“We never got a chance to play again” she says suddenly, her voice soft. “After you came back from Yangzhou”.

She’s not looking at him.

“I apologize” he replies, “His Majesty’s tasks for me kept me away”.

She nods.

“His Majesty is so burdened” she says, “I understand. The reforms have caused an upheaval and he has to bear it all- all the arguments and the incompetence and the corruption- and added to that, his sorrow—”

He nods.

The tiny part of him that still loves _Zhao Zhen,_ the boy at whose side he’d grown up- that perhaps always will love him, he acknowledges- hurts for his loss.

“Yes” he says, “It’s a delicate time. It is my duty to do all I can to serve him well and ease his burden”.

But he does not wish to talk about _guanjia_. And as for the mess of the investigation- he did not wish to drag her into it anyway.

I serve him now to ease _your_ burden, he thinks.

I serve him now to make sure I can protect _you_.

But he knows her- if she had an inkling of his _wild_ thoughts, _she_ would send him away, and _that_ he cannot bear.

There are some secrets he must keep even from her.

“I thought” she starts, and then stops. “It had been so long that perhaps…”

She stops again.

“Eight months, fourteen days and twenty hours”.

“What?”

“That’s how long it has been”.

It’s too much, he thinks, but he wants her to know.

He knows of the nights she has spent, the years, the months, the days, the drip-drip-drip of the minutes, as she waits for one who never comes.

He wants her to know that someone counts the hours for her too, that someone’s lifetime is divided by her, _before_ and _after, with_ and _without._

He tracks the bob of her throat as she swallows.

His fingers find hers in the dirt.

She nods.

“I’m sorry” she whispers, “Pingfu”.

His fingers clench over hers, tight.

“No” he says, softly, “I forbid you from apologizing to me for being who you are”.

She inhales, a shaky gasp.

Slowly, he withdraws his hand, because if he didn’t- if he didn’t---

She takes another deep breath, and another.

It feels _unbearable_ , watching her like this; as she struggles to maintain her composure, pressing down all that’s in her heart and mind, because to say it aloud would be ruin.

“I have a garden” he blurts.

She looks up at him, at that.

Her eyes are bright and shining with unshed tears.

“Nobody knows where it is except me” he continues, in a rush, “Nobody cares for it except me, it’s forgotten and unremarked. But to me, it’s the most precious piece of land in the world, even though I don’t own it, can never claim it”.

He doesn’t know why he’s telling her this, but he wants to press a secret into her palm, earth-crusted, and soft, where he knows it will be safe, nurtured.

“And does it bloom?” she whispers, after a moment, “Does it survive when you are away?”

He nods.

“In the winters, it grows quiet and desolate, waiting. And until now, I had thought, that was destiny. After all, who can fight the seasons? I had not considered…”

He looks down at the tender green shoot they’ve just planted.

“I had not considered that winter has its own fragrance” he says, softly. “That what blooms in the hushed cradle of winter can never flourish under the harshness of the summer sun”.

The look in her eyes brings a flush to his cheeks, but he meets her gaze as steadily as he can.

It’s she who looks away first- down at the tiny, unsheltered fragment of hope they’ve planted together.

“You should plant one of these in your garden then” she says, softly.

She looks up again at him, and oh, he thinks, _oh._

“I think it’d be safe there”.

“Yes” he says, “It will”.


End file.
